


Maka'u

by KomodoQueen



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KomodoQueen/pseuds/KomodoQueen
Summary: It's Halloween on Oahu and everything's gone horribly wrong. A Giftfic written for IreneClaire - Happy Birthday!





	1. Hysteria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IreneClaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/gifts).



> So this is a birthday giftfic with a seasonal Halloween theme for the lovely IC from your good friends KQ and Swifters. It was GOING to be a one shot … but then we didn’t finish it in time, so it’s not. LOVE YOU xxx  
> Disclaimer: Yeah – we own nothing … except a pair of stinky old sneakers that once walked the same beach as Scott Cann and a broken Hawaii Five-0 fridge magnet, neither of which are particularly helpful. We also own a hell of a lot less wine than we did at the start of the week …

Danny Williams startled awake, terrified and gasping for air. He had no idea why.

He was alone. It was pitch black and the air that surrounded him was cool and left a moist feeling on his skin. Skin that was bare to his waist.

He wore no shoes and he could tell his pants were ragged and torn where they stuck to his legs, stopping mid-calf to just hang in tatters over his bare ankles.

Blood rushed in his ears and he strained to hear more than his own harsh and ragged breathing above the too-fast _whoosh,_ _whoosh_ of his heart.

The dark silence was oppressive. It pressed down on him from all sides. Except for his back, because at his back was a wall. Solid, cold; pressed to his bare flesh as the darkness smothered him.

He forced himself upright, determined to see ... something _. Anything_. Strained harder to hear … whatever it was he needed to hear to figure out exactly where he was. The why would have to wait until later. Right now he could barely remember his own name, but there was _definitely_ someone – or some _thing_ – in the room with him … if he was even in a room. He could hear it breathing. Panting almost. Short little gasps as though whoever – _whatever_ – it was really didn’t want to be heard at all.

His heart rate increased once again and he struggled to draw in enough air. If the blackness itself didn’t succeed in devouring him, his own body was intent on suffocating itself; the thick band of tightness in his chest like a python squeezing its prey. He couldn’t breathe. He had to get out, had to get _up_.

_It’s just a bad dream. It has to be a bad dream._

The roughness of the wall behind him told him otherwise.

He pushed up to standing, one hand firmly pressed to the frigidity of the damp brickwork as he braced himself with the other. His knee twinged and he gasped, the sudden intake of breath catching at a spot in his belly, sending shooting pain to his very core.

Danny doubled over, panting in distress. His mouth was drier than a dead dingo’s donga, the fear all-consuming.

Left hand braced against the wall, Danny gingerly investigated the source of his discomfort, his right hand running across the skin of his lower chest and abdomen. The tender flesh was puckered on his right side – exactly where the pain had started. His hand slipped through a tacky wetness that remained on his fingers, clumps of jelly-like _something_ adhered to the soft hair that ran in a line from his navel into his pants.

_Blood?_

The hits just kept on coming. He was half naked, freezing cold, trapped in some deep, dark dungeon in God-only-knew where, his knee was killing him and now … well now he had apparently been stabbed or something and he was gonna bleed out before he even figured out where the hell he was.

_Fucking wonderful._

He heard a grunt. Danny bit down on his lower lip hard enough to taste copper. He couldn’t lose it – _wouldn’t_ lose it. Not yet at least. He had to figure out where he was and get out because …

_Why?_

Because that’s what he was meant to do. He had to do … something. He was there to do _something._ He knew he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him Danny had no fucking clue what in the hell _it_ was. Not a clue.

And that grunt? The one he’d thought was him? Yeah well that wasn’t him at all … it had come from way over to his left. In the darkness. The deep, oppressive darkness that wanted to eat him whole and spit his bones into the burning flames of hell. The darkness that contained … whatever the hell it was that was fucking _breathing_ in the room with him – likely the very same thing that had stabbed him and left him to bleed. Hell, it probably summoned the fucking darkness itself to finish him off.

He was so screwed.

So _fucking_ screwed.

A wave of nausea hit him. Hard. He doubled over and deposited the contents of his stomach on the floor, splattering his bare feet with the remnants of lunch. Or dinner. It could’ve been breakfast for all he knew – he hadn’t had a grasp on time since he ‘woke’ in this hell hole.

He retched again, eyes watering and nose running. And dear God did it hurt. His whole belly felt like it was on fire. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was what happened when you went to hell. Maybe the fire consumed you from the inside out before you spent eternity in agonising pain.

_Oh God._

Whatever it was had heard him. He could hear it moving closer. He stood upright and pressed himself hard against the wall; listening, watching. He shuffled to his right, away from the breathing; felt the chill of a tiled floor beneath feet he could feel covered in the slick of what must be his own blood and now his vomit.

A creak. The sound of metal grating on metal.

Danny stilled, holding his breath as his heart hammered away between his ears faster than a frightened rabbit.

_It’s coming._

What? What is it that’s coming? He hadn’t a fucking clue, but whatever it was it wasn’t good. He was cold and alone and hurt and … fucking terrified. A wave of dizziness had him clinging to the wall like his life depended on it. It probably did.

Fuck.

Another creak, a crack of light.

A doorway.

As light streamed in to the left of him, Danny shielded his eyes, still pressing himself into the wall hard enough to leave the imprint of bricks on his skin as his eyes adjusted to the intrusion. The corner of the room was bathed in … moonlight?

_Ok, so that answers the when._

A small figure crouched in the corner. A girl. Loose curls of thick, brunette hair shadowing her pale face as she peered out from beneath them. She was beautiful. Danny marvelled at her grace as she moved to standing, the swathed white bodice giving way to a flowing satin skirt that blended seamlessly with the long chiffon shawl draped from her shoulders. He could hardly take his eyes off her, this vision of loveliness, of innocence. Sweet, unfettered naivety with soft brown hair … He knew her. He _knew_ her, but he just couldn’t place her, his head wasn’t working the way it was supposed to, he had no clue why.

A shape in the doorway. A man.

No. _Not a man._

The imposing figure who loomed in the doorway, reaching out to the young girl was no human. The moonlight cast him in shadow, but Danny could still pick out his features. Long wavy mane of dark hair, wan complexion and deep circles beneath eyes that glowed milky white in the half-light. A monster dressed in cargo pants and boots, long black overcoat swirling behind it as it dropped down to one knee, beckoning the girl towards its muscled frame.

_No! It mustn’t have her._

Danny knew he had to act. He couldn’t let this girl – this virgin child – be taken … _turned_ by this … beast. As the monster flashed a toothy grin, sharp fangs glinting, Danny moved.

He barrelled into the monster, tackling it like an offensive lineman whilst screaming at the girl to run. The pair tumbled through the doorway onto the moonlit deck of a lanai … which was weird because when did dungeons have lanais? He had no time to wonder more about it as the monster struck out in its defence. Danny blocked the blow, half rising and throwing it to the floor. The pair grappled, Danny using elbows, fists and feet to subdue the evil-in-a-long-coat before he could entrance the virgin and drink from her.

His lungs burned with the exertion and pain exploded in his belly, but Danny had never been one to give in. He was running on instinct alone at this point, nothing made sense. His rational mind was screaming at him.

_It’s just a man, Danno. It’s Steve, Danno._

His vision wavered. He didn’t have long. The blood loss was getting to him. The beast snarled beneath him and he was lifted bodily and thrown from the lanai to the grass, breaking through the railing as he went.

He rose to all fours, shaking his head to clear his vision. The girl was there. She was walking towards the monster, tears streaming down her face.

_No!_

Danny scrambled to his feet, grabbing a piece of the broken rail. Holding it high, he lunged upwards towards the monster, thrusting his makeshift stake at its heart.

The monster’s eyes widened, its upturned face a mixture of shock and … fear … which was odd, because Danny didn’t think vampires were afraid of anything. The beast grunted as he barrelled into it, stake first and then rolled away from him to lay still on the wooden floor.

Danny raised himself to his knees, a surge of vertigo hitting him, making him waver in place.

But then it was the girl’s face in front of him and she was holding a candlestick out in front of her, yelling at him. He was too late! She was already under the monster’s spell.

She only had one chance - Danny was going to have to finish it off. He grabbed his stake from the floor and launched himself towards the beast. It growled inhumanly as they wrestled to and fro on the smooth wood of the lanai, Danny’s arms pushing and pushing on the stake, trying to force it into the monster’s chest.

_Danno, Stop! It’s Steve!_

His rational mind was screaming again. He shook his head and pressed ever harder on his stake, the girl’s only hope. The nausea returned with a vengeance and his vision swam, the pointed teeth of his enemy dripping with saliva as they threatened to tear at his mortal flesh. He was weakening now, the combination of blood loss and the beast sapping his strength at every turn, every laboured breath now one step closer to his own demise.

_Save the girl. Save the girl. Save the virgin girl._

He bit back the nausea, tamped down on the searing agony tearing through his gut and with the last vestiges of his strength he threw his whole bodyweight onto the stake. Something gave and the monster grunted in pain, mouth gaping like a fish on a line and eyes filled with … _sadness?_  

_DANNO - NO! IT’S STEVE!_

The voice in his head was screaming. The girl was screaming. His belly was screaming and his chest heaved heavy with the exertion.

_What did you DO?_

The beast lay still beneath him, milky-white eyes staring blankly at the moon. The girl was still screaming as he turned to face her. He didn’t understand what the possessed girl was saying, it didn’t make sense. He was sure the beast hadn’t bitten her, hadn’t had time to turn her, but she was pale and … and she sounded like … Grace … which didn’t make sense unless she had already been turned. This was an illusion, a trick of the mind. She was too weak and small to entrance him, so she was trying to trick him … her fangs glistened in the moonlight …

The beast tremored beneath his hands as he shook his head to clear his vision. She hadn’t been turned. He’d _saved_ her. He had made it in time – he had to have. But what if he hadn’t? He couldn’t kill this girl. She was just a kid, wasn’t she? He was so confused.

He glanced round. The last thing he saw before pain exploded across his skull and his whole world went dark was his precious daughter’s terrified face as she swung the candlestick holder at his head.


	2. Unintended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the kudos, follows and kind words. The muse is fat from all the loving, but the plot bunny is a rabid mofo and needs to be put down, ergo, this one-shot isn’t even a two-shot … hey – at least no one is dead … yet …   
> Disclaimer: We still own nothing but the DVD box sets, a few (less than legitimately) downloaded episodes and a random piece of toast with a likeness of Chin’s shotgun burned into it. Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer 2: There is a SLIM chance some alcohol MAY have been consumed whilst we were writing this.

_THREE HOURS EARLIER_

Steve glowered in mock indignance at Kono as she slapped him on the ass with a cheeky grin plastered all over her face. She kept walking right on by the partners, strutting her stuff all the way to the cocktail table, her cat-woman costume rendering her so sexy she’d be banned in several countries.

As soon as she passed by, a smug smirk grew on Steve’s face, because, yeah, inappropriate, but he was only human. He opened his mouth to say something hilarious to Danny about sexual harassment, but stopped short when he clocked the shorter man’s thunderous expression. “What?! What’s the problem?”

“You! You’re the problem, with that…” Danny’s hand indicated Steve’s general body area, “while I’m, I’m… like _this_.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. He ran his eyes down Danny, head to toe, pretty proud of himself because he managed to keep a straight face. “Hey, buddy, it was your _daughter’s_ idea that she and Charlie should choose our costumes, remember? It’s hardly my fault Charlie picked you so Gracie got me, is it? _And_ it’s hardly my fault she’s into ‘Twilight’ right now and Charlie likes…”

Yeah, the self-control slipped and Steve couldn’t stifle the chuckle on his lips. While he was clad in a classy modern-day vampire ensemble- pale face, red lips, disturbingly wacky contacts, all set off with a smart long black jacket over a black silk shirt and… okay, black cargo pants. Nothing embarrassing was the key point. He looked good and there was no point denying it. Yeah, while he was _that_ … Danny had proved less fortunate.

Danny glared at him and that vein in his neck was pulsating visibly even through all that green body paint. Yeah- clad only in ripped cut-offs and non-toxic paste, his partner was the Incredible Hulk.

He was pulling it off pretty well, Steve thought- those broad shoulders, the muscular chest- they looked good in green. Although the slimed-up body hair added an unusual dimension to the costume.

“Remind me again why you didn’t get one of those fake green pull-on suit things?” Steve said, mock-serious.

Danny glared even more intensely. “You know why. You know! You know I was stupid enough to blindly trust my delightful former wife when she told me she ‘had something that would work’. How the hell was I to know she meant this, huh?!”

Steve reached over to pat him on the shoulder, but stopped himself just in time. He smiled broadly, showing his fake pointed teeth shamelessly. “Sorry buddy. You’re a good father, you know that, right?” He knew he’d scored points there when Danny immediately looked over to where Charlie was, giggling away with Chin and Jerry over spooky shadow puppets.

Danny smiled a shy little smile. “Well, I try to do the right thing.” he said, real quiet, apparently entirely disarmed by the simple compliment.

“Gentlemen!”

Steve and Danny turned round only to see Max in his customary Keanu costume- this year it was legendary assassin John Wick. Clad in a formal suit in muted Charcoal tones, the ME was all ‘funeral chic’- complete with three-day growth.

“Max,” said Steve. “Great party. Love the décor.”

“Why thank you. I am, however, well aware that it remains non-advisable for both of you gentlemen to consume alcoholic beverages and, as this is a ‘party’ where this very activity is a widely accepted mainstay of our questionable western culture, I felt bad.”

“Errr. It’s okay, Max, we’re good.” Danny said, throwing a confused look at Steve.

“Not at all. Fortunately, my good wife and I were kindly provided with what is apparently called a ‘Halloween Heebie Jeebie,’ actually a mixed fruit smoothie served in a receptacle which has been molded into the shape of a bat, I believe a Soprano’s pipistrelle although there _are_ notable inaccuracies in the relative dimensions of head to body, as you will see.”

Max produced two mug-sized plastic bats, wings outstretched, with a flourish. “The heads unscrew. Naturally.”

Steve and Danny exchanged a look before both reached out hesitantly to take one.

“I’m assured the drink is healthy and its consumption will provide you with a good experience.”

“That’s… good to know buddy.”

“Yeah, seriously, thanks Max.”

Max looked away, clearly uncomfortable, as the two partners exchanged yet more glances and began attempting to unscrew bat heads. The pathologist’s gaze came to a rest approximately where Grace Williams was standing, staring up at Kamekona with a patronising smile on her pretty face. “I must say I’m surprised you allowed your daughter to dress like that, Detective Williams.”

Danny’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Wha… like what?”

“I realise she’s intrigued by the concept of vampires at this moment in time, but to allow her to go so far as to dress as a _virgin_ to Commander McGarrett’s dark lord I find surprising. It makes sense as a costume combination, but the enforcement of the stereotypical weak female/strong male roles is old fashioned at best and I must say, the overtly sexual overtones running between the traditional roles of virgin and vampire could be viewed as in poor taste, particularly given the age difference between the two people in question.”

“Wait. WHAT?” Danny’s face was probably going red but it was really hard to tell. “What the hell do…!”

“Max!!!!!” Steve wailed in horror, interjecting forcefully before blood started to fly. “She’s _Athena_. She’s a _Greek Goddess_. She’s not a _virgin_.”

Danny whirled round to face Steve.

Steve raised both hands defensively “I don’t mean she’s not… Jeez, Danny, I mean her _costume_!”

“I’m sorry, Detective Williams **,”** Max said, backpedalling clumsily. **“** I made an assumption based upon visual evidence without first appreciating the family dynamic – an error I should not have made. As a man of science I pride myself on appraising all factual evidence before drawing conclusions and, in this case, I clearly jumped too soon.”

Danny nodded his acceptance of the ME’s apology without once taking his eyes from his partner who was still trying to decide how best to extricate both feet from his mouth.

“Yes, it is quite clear from her body language that while young Grace has reached puberty, sexual desires have yet to fully manifest …”

“MAX!!!” Steve practically screamed in disbelief, one hand on his partner’s green chest as Danny actually growled. The blond man’s jaw muscles were flexing and his nostrils were flared- his blood pressure was rising visibly.

The ME looked briefly at Grace’s father and then her adopted uncle, before wisely deciding to shut his mouth. With a small bow and a muttered apology he backed away from the two men, his own body language in stark contrast to both that of his friends and that of his chosen persona for the evening.

“Did he just … did you hear ….” Danny was so mad construction of basic sentences had become an issue.

“It’s just Max, Danny. You know what he’s like.”

“I know, but he just … _you_ just …”

“Still, it was nice of him to get us these. Right?” Steve raised his bat, aiming for distraction before Danny channelled his own guise. Danny just huffed and took a long draw on the strange-smelling green liquid in his bat. He wrinkled his nose, but then took another sip.

Steve raised his container to his lips, almost choked on the contents and poured the remainder of the jar into the potted plant on the console table.

“Why did you do that!!!!?? That’s pretty rude, even for you, Steven.”

“It’s disgusting!”

“Says the man who puts butter in his coffee and makes smoothies out of grass and bee pollen!”

“That’s good for you!”

Danny raised his eyebrows and took another sip.

“What?”

Steve’s brow furrowed, “Seriously?”

“It’s not all that bad - I quite like it.”

“No you don’t! You’re just saying that because I _don’t_ like it.”

“Maybe I just have a more refined palate than you because I’m more evolved. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go make sure my son doesn’t turn into a candy corn.”

“Hey, he’s going home to Rachel in what, thirty minutes, right?”

“Yeah, the delightful woman has ordained I only get my kids until seven- thirty tonight because she has some fancy-ass party she wants to parade them at.”

“So… feed him _more_ , buddy! Call it payback for the limited Halloween child access, _and_ for … _that!_ ” Steve smirked as he gestured to the green makeup caked on his friend’s body.

Danny smiled, but it was one of those sad, self-effacing ‘I let my marriage fail, I failed my kids, this situation is my own fault and I pretty much hate myself right now’ kind of smiles that Danny so often produced these days. The smiles that made Steve want to slap him, hard, because those kids were so fucking lucky to have a father like Danny it wasn’t even funny. He didn’t slap him. He poked him square in the green hairy belly instead, _juuuust_ to the right of the heavily-concealed scar he knew was there because he had one just like it.

Danny smacked his hand away with a glower.

Steve grinned cheekily. “Rachel picking them up?”

“No, no,” said Danny, shaking his head. He was looking over at Grace, who was now sitting in the corner staring intently at her phone, whilst nodding along to some story Max was telling her. The guy was apparently oblivious to the blatant fake-listening. “No. I said I’d take ‘em home. It’s not like I’m drinking and I figured I wouldn’t be in much of a party mood after. You know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, buddy, I get it.” Steve exhaled slowly, knowing there wasn’t much chance of talking Danny into coming back, for all he hated it that his partner liked to go lick his wounds in private. It was just the way he was.

Then a shudder ran down Danny’s body, top to toe, as though someone had just walked over his grave. The blond man squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if to clear it.

Steve frowned. “You okay?”

Danny blinked a few times then turned to look at him. “What? Yeah. Why?”

Steve looked at him intently. The green paint on his forehead looked darker all of a sudden. He was starting to sweat. Steve reached out and pressed a hand to his head.

“Steven? Whatchya doing?” Danny asked carefully.

“Eh? Nothin’. You just look kinda funny.”

Danny glared at him intently. He dropped his hand. Danny wasn’t running a high temperature anyway. It was probably just the effect of having that makeup caked all over him.

Another shudder followed and Steve frowned again.

“You know… I’m kinda beat. Mind driving me home once you drop the kids off?” The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he really had a chance to think through what he was saying. But as he heard them he thought yeah. Yeah. Danny was getting morose already and something about him was a little… off. Steve was gonna stick with him and he’d just have to deal with it.

Danny stared at him flatly. “You. Steve McGarrett. _You_. Want _me_ to drive you home. Who are you and what have you done with the real Steven?”

Steve screwed up his eyes and shook his head. “What? Shut up! Look, I’m beat. Like you like to remind me ten million times a day, I’ve had a liver transplant, I’m meant to be sensible. I’m tired therefore I want to go home. And I’m tired –ergo – it would be sensible for someone to drive me. Problem?”

That stare intensified. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Being sensible?”

“You forget, I _know_ you. _You_ are concerned about my state of mind but instead of just saying that, because you are an amoeba in terms of emotional evolution, you’re gonna force me to spend the entire night in your company when all I actually want to do is drop my beautiful kids at Rachel’s, shower this gunk off and go to bed. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but no thank you.”

Steve flared his nostrils in annoyance. “An amoeba? Seriously?”

“That’s your takeaway?”

“And, wait, what’s wrong with my company? You and I have scintillating conversations, don’t we?”

“We have conversations that make me want to slit my wrists, that’s for sure. 

Steve rolled his weird milky-white eyes then smiled softly at his partner. “Danny…”

Danny visibly deflated. “Sorry. I’m kidding. Yeah, I’ll take you home. Of course. But I’m not staying! I’m heading home right after.”

“Suuure you are Danno . Right, now that’s settled, you wanna dance?”

“Eh? What so you mean do I…”

Before he could object further, Danny was whisked into a ballroom hold and led into a bizarre waltz, _totally_ out of time to whatever the hell teeny music was playing right then.

“Steven,” he practically squeaked, bat-juice slopping onto his friends shoulder as he tried to balance himself in the whirl. “What are you _doing_?!”

“Shut up, Danno. Everyone already thinks we’re a thing. Loosen up and have some fun.”

With that, Steve reached down and gathered a giggling Charlie into his arms, pressing him between the pair as they continued their waltz.

The trio swept past a mortified Grace Williams, her face an image of abject horror as she looked up from where she had been buried in her phone and saw her father and Uncle Steve cavorting round the room with her brother. The teenager huffed and deflated in embarrassment before realising the mood in the room was anything but judgemental, putting her phone to good use capturing blackmail footage for a later date.

Steve spun him round again, and Danny staggered, almost went down. Steve tightened his grip on his partner. What the fuck?

“You okay, Danny?” Steve looked at him with a concerned frown.

Danny shook his head, looking bleary eyed for a moment. Then he seemed to get hold of himself. “Yeah! Course.” Danny responded. “Just dizzy. Just… just your terrible leading. My turn.”

He grabbed Steve by the waist and danced on as though nothing had happened.

TBC


	3. Map of Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to those who have been kind enough to leave kudos and comments – we think we replied to you all, but … wine.  
> Disclaimer: They’re not ours. Yet. Swifters has added new rings to the basement walls and a snatch team will be mobilised … just as soon as we remember where we saw the ad and source a decent burner phone.

It was a scene that had replayed itself many times through the years- the two friends sitting side-by-side in Steve’s Adirondack chairs, staring out across the ocean. The sun had long since set. The full moon was casting its eerie gray hue across the shadowy seascape, pinpoints of reflected light danced on the gentle ocean waves.

Everything was quiet save for the gentle lapping of the water. Silence between the partners was usually as comfortable and familiar as the lively, point-scoring banter that dominated so much of their time at work. They were at peace with one another, the love that flowed beneath their matched feisty facades never far from the surface. Yet, this time, things weren’t just right.

Steve glanced over at Danny.

Steve had been by Danny’s side through so much, he knew him so well and he just knew there was something amiss. Danny seemed off in a way Steve couldn’t put his finger on.

He hated it that the daily routine of life brought his partner painful reminders of a wrecked marriage and a life that could have been. Sometimes it didn’t seem to bother him. Sometimes it did. Steve hated that, he hated that Danny tortured himself when the guy was the best example of a father Steve had ever known. But an hour had passed since they’d dropped off the kids with Rachel and, normally, the overt sadness would have passed and been replaced with a kind of resignation, maybe accompanied with some dry, self-effacing wit. It wasn’t happening.

Danny was staring into the distance with a bizarre intensity. He was on edge.  He couldn’t quite sit still.

As Steve watched, Danny shifted again then took another swig from the bat hipflask Max had presented him with.

Steve grimaced. Max’s ‘Heebie Jeebie’ juice had tasted awful. Mis-matched fruits with a little chilli hit at the end of it which just did NOT go. Maybe Danny didn’t like it at all. Maybe he was just in a self-punishing kind of a mood.  Maybe it was as simple as that.

Steve was itching to ask him what was going on with him but he wasn’t gonna push him. If all their years of friendship had taught him one thing, it was that you never pushed a Williams. Ever. No, if you wanted to find out what was bothering a Williams, you just had to bite your tongue and be there. When they were good and ready they’d let you in. Until then it was simply a watch and wait mission. Steve had never been all that good at waiting, until he’d met Danny. Nowadays he was doing all kinds of waiting – he had even been known to wait for backup.

Whatever was going on with Danny, Steve’s scrutiny hadn’t escaped him.  “You know you could have stayed at the party,” the blond man pointed out, eyes never leaving the ocean. “I could have dropped Grace and Charlie back at Rachel’s myself.”

“I know.”

“Just wanted more of my scintillating company then, huh?”

Steve snorted. “Pretty much. Don’t know where I’d be without you and your sunny disposition parked in my yard, drinking my beer, eating my food.”

“Not proper beer, Steven,” said Danny flatly.

Steve looked at the bottle of alcohol-free brew in his hand and sighed in resignation.  “Maybe not, but it’s better than bat-juice, at least.”

Danny snorted too, then turned to look at him. “Bat-juice? Seriously?” he chuckled. “You’ve no sense of adventure these days, Steven. You used to dangle people from buildings and use them as shark-bait. Now you won’t even drink from a bat. I mean look at him.” Danny turned the open cup to face his partner, bat head hanging from a rubberised rope on the handle. “He’s not even together and he’s more together than either of us, don’t you think?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply then stopped, frowning. “I don’t get it. What do you mean, Danny?”

Danny laughed, long and loud, the sound echoing through the peaceful night like machine gun fire. “You have no idea, do you!”

“Nope,” Steve agreed, shaking his head and staring at Danny, wondering where the hell he was going with this. “Not a clue and to be honest you’re being a bit weird, Danno.” He paused for a few beats, then took a risk. “You wanna talk about what’s going on in that head tonight?”

Danny didn’t answer right away, and when he did it came in the form of a predictable “Nope.”

Steve nodded a few times and let the silence draw out between them. He watched his partner, trying to understand. He watched that tense body language, watched as Danny licked his lips over and over, nerves on edge.  It all seemed wrong, out of place. It was giving him a strange feeling in his gut.

Then Danny took a deep breath, sagged back in his seat with a deep sigh. He cleared his throat a couple of times. It seemed like he was psyching himself up, like he might finally  _speak_ about what was bothering him so much, what was eating at him. Steve held his breath as his partner opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you think fish know they’re gonna be eaten, or do you think they die oblivious?”

Steve screwed his face up in complete and total disbelief. “ _What_?!”

“Fish,” Danny repeated, with a flourish of his hands. “I don’t mean the ones eaten by – you know – other fish. I mean if you were a fish and, say, a bigger fish was chasing you all round the ocean then, clearly, you’d have some inkling you were about to be fish food. I mean the other ones. The ones caught in nets.”

Steve turned bodily to look at his partner, incredulous; eyebrows raised high enough to crease his forehead.

“I mean do you think they have any idea they’re gonna be grilled, or sushi – rolled in seaweed and smeared with soy or wasabi?”

“Danny, are you being serious right now? I’ve been sitting here thinking you were torturing yourself about your kids or something, you know…  _important_ , and you’ve been thinking about  _fish_?!”

Danny turned to look at him, his face earnest. “I think you’ll find it’s pretty damn important to the fish, Steven. Whether they live or die? Don’t you ever think about what the fish  _know_? If they see  _you_  with your flippers and your spear and think ‘this is it… I’m gonna die and I’m gonna get flame-grilled? ”

Steve stared at him, doing a pretty damn good impression of a fish himself. He shook his head. “Can’t say as it’s been high on my list of life-affirming questions Danny. No. So what, is this you wondering if you should become a vegetarian or something? Are you in the middle of a moral dilemma? Because I’ve no idea whether I should be concerned about you or not right now. You’re being… yeah. Weird.”

Danny didn’t reply. He finished his ‘bat-juice’ and screwed the lid back on before tossing it towards the ocean. It bounced across the beach, falling short of the water by several feet.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing?! This is my back yard, not a garbage chute. I should arrest you for littering.”

Danny was apparently entirely unrepentant. “Thought it would fly. Considering the thing is a bat, it doesn’t fly too well, huh?”

Steve stared at him, just stared. Then Danny turned his head and smiled the hugest smile right at him, teeth and eyes shining in the half-light. He looked so damn pleased with himself Steve couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe he was being concerned for nothing. Maybe Danny was just being… weird. Maybe he was teasing him in some ass-backwards Williams way. Steve sat back, stared out at the ocean again.

“So, have you re-done these chairs or what?”

“How’d you mean?”

“It’s a lot softer than I remember.”

“Softer?” Steve turned his head again with a frown only to see Danny…  _fondling_  was the only word for it… yes, fondling one arm of the Adirondack chair with both hands.  “Danny have you gone soft in the head? They’re made of wood – how the hell can wood be soft?”

“There are many ways to be soft, Steven. Your chairs are no longer as hard and harsh as they once were. They seem smoother, ergo, they are  _softer_.”

“Riiiiight.” Steve watched as Danny ran his fingers gently over the wood, tracing each line of its grain.

“Definitely softer, but there’s no sign you’ve sanded here, so either you’ve been attending carpentry school on the sly and have channelled your inner Gibbs, or these chairs are softer for some other reason.”

“Nope, no,” Steve replied with a shake of his head. “I’ve done nothing to the chairs Danny. They are exactly the same as last time you sat in them.”

“Hmmmmm. Nope. Maybe it was the ocean then?” Danny lifted his gaze to stare out at the gently breaking waves once more.

“What?! Maybe the ocean made the chair softer? Are you seriously suggesting that right now?”

“Hmmm, maybe,” and he was using his case-tone now, like there was a mystery to be solved, a bad guy to catch. “You think it could have affected the chairs? I mean usually wood weathers by becoming rougher – you know, the paint or varnish becomes chipped or cracked and the water gets in and the wood kinda splits, and you end up with splinters in your ass and Julie Mancini tells the whole world about how you ruined her best pantyhose when you never laid a hand on her and you get suspended and miss out on the duck boat tour of the Hudson.”

“Oh-kay.” Yeah, okay, this wasn’t normal. Danny was not being normal. The realization was starting to concrete itself in Steve’s mind, but at the same time it didn’t make sense- they’d been together all night. He wasn’t drunk. He hadn’t knocked his head. Was it stress, was he having some surreal, slow motion breakdown? Was he sick? He’d staggered a little, a couple of times, back at the party, and Steve had wondered. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe Danny had a fever brewing.

Danny was carrying on, unperturbed by Steve’s lack of interaction. “I mean it could be possible, right? Weird stuff happens here all the time. This is a very spiritual part of the world and the ocean is even a different colour – hell, even the  _sand_  is a different colour. The water is different too. Maybe because the water is softer too it makes stuff softer, rather than weathering it, huh? The water is really pretty though, isn’t it? I mean, you love the water and all, but it’s a particularly pretty ocean, don’t you think?”

Steve reached across and laid a hand on Danny’s arm. The green looked gray in the moonlight, but Steve could feel the drying clumps of body paint beneath his fingers. This whole thing was bizarre. This whole night was bizarre. “Danny, stop. You wanna just tell me what’s going on? All …  _this_? You're starting to freak me out just a little, ok, so be straight with me. Are you feeling sick? Or, I dunno… stressed? Speak to me, buddy, what’s up with you? What is it?”

“IT, is a two-letter word, Steven. A pronoun. Almost as useful as string. Or zip-ties. You have a lot of uses for zip-ties. I’ll bet you have zip-ties in your bedroom – in fact, I  _know_  you have zip-ties in your bedroom …”

And that was it, that was enough, there was something really, really wrong with this picture and Steve was gonna get to the bottom of it right th….

Danny’s phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at it and glowered.

“Rachel. What is it, light of my life, destroyer of empires, crusher of spirits?”

And Steve could hear Danny’s ex-wife, he could hear her panicked tone, the fear in her voice. Her words knocked all other concerns clear out of the park, because  _fuck_!

_“She’s gone! Grace has gone! We fought and I sent her up to her room and… Danny, she’s gone!!!”_

_TBC_


End file.
